


Conversations Over Coffee

by themayqueen



Category: Hanson (Band)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Angels, Coffee, Coffee Shops, Drawing, F/M, Humor, Inner Dialogue, Los Angeles, Memories, Past Lives, People Watching, Supernatural Elements, This Time Around Era
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2001-03-07
Updated: 2001-03-11
Packaged: 2019-02-08 07:24:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12859653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themayqueen/pseuds/themayqueen
Summary: Taylor meets a strange girl in a coffee shop.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Although this work is marked as unfinished, it has been long abandoned and only two chapters exist. It is posted here only to make my collection of fic on AO3 as complete as possible.

I shifted nervously in the coffee house chair. To say I was paranoid would have been quite an understatement. I didn't want to leave our rented house, but I needed a cup of joe and the coffee machine was being more than a little dissagreeable. Going out at 9:00 in the morning for coffee was only fun in Tulsa. There, I was just "Diana's boy" or "that Hanson guy". But in LA, it was different. I was _Taylor Hanson_. And at the moment, I was without a bodyguard to protect me from fans. 

_Heaven help me._

A bell above the door rang, announcing a new customer and jarring me enough to make a few drops of scalding hot coffee to land in my lap. I silently cursed the person who had opened the door. Upon realizing it was Isaac, I also started to plot their death. 

You may see that as overreacting, but that early in the morning, in an LA coffee house that I didn't want to be in and before I had finished my morning coffee, it was normal. 

Isaac sat down, looking like he had a lot on his mind. My death plots were pushed to the back of my mind, and I prepared to listen. Or at least pretend that I was listening. 

But he didn't talk. At least not for a good ten minutes. Which was forever in Ike-time. 

Finally, he broke the silence. "Look at that girl."

I knew our game had begun. Despite my hate for coffee houses, we had spent much time in them across the country. Every time, we would form our own little theories about the other coffee drinkers. We dreamed up families, enemies, lovers -- anything to make the person interesting. It made the whole coffee house experience closer to tolerable.

The girl Isaac had been referring to was dressed in all black, with streaked black and bleach blond hair, mostly hidden under a cowboy hat. A cowboy had was something you didn't see very much in LA. At least not one without fake fur and rhinestones. This was a real cowboy hat, made of leather and coated in a thin layer of dirt. 

"What do you think she's writing?" Ike asked.

My eyes were suddenly drawn to the pen and paper she had. I wondered why I hadn't noticed them before. Maybe they had just materialized while I was thinking about her hat. 

"Some poetry. Depressed, starving artist type stuff."

Isaac picked his coffee up, "I was thinking a letter to the sister she only gets to see once a year."

I turned to face him, "Man....those teenybopper magazines are right when they call you the romantic of the band."

That annoying little bell rang again, momentarily distracting Isaac from giving some smart ass reply. 

This time, it was Zac walking through the door. His eyes scanned the room before he began walking toward our table.

He pulled up a chair from the table next to us and asked, "So this is what you guys were doing every morning on the tour?"

"Yeah. Care to join us? We always pick out people and try to figure out what they are thinking, where they came here from, their history -- that sort of thing."

I nodded. "See that girl? The one in black? We're trying to decide what she's writing. Any ideas?"

Zac grabbed Isaac's coffee and took a big drink, which he spit onto the table approximately five seconds later.

He looked up at us, sputtering and coffee, "What the hell?! How do you drink that crap?"

Isaac smiled, "It's an acquired taste."

"Hmmph," was the reply.

"So," I started again, "what do you think of that girl?"

He followed my eyes to the girl and studied her for a few seconds.

"She's drawing an angel."

I raised an eyebrow, "Why do you think that?"

"I saw her paper."

"Oh." I was silent for a minute or so.

Isaac looked up from his coffee, "What did it look like?"

"Interestingly enough, kinda like Taylor. Only with wings." Zac giggled.

"I bet its halo was rusty," Isaac threw in.

"I didn't notice."


	2. Chapter 2

That damn coffee machine had it in for me. It just sits there, laughing at me when I have to go out for coffee. What's that you say? Coffee machines can't laugh? Oh but yes. At least this one can. And laugh it does. Big belly laughs. Every time I walk out that door to the coffee house where no one seems to recognize me, the coffee machine laughs. When it laughs it seems to be saying, _*hehe* Guess what? I work. Just not for you! Why? Because it's funny to make you mad *hehe*._

It's strange how weird thoughts like that fill your head before you've had a good cup of coffee to start your day. Even stranger how they stay in your head when you've had a bad cup of coffee. All things considered, it's probably a good thing I didn't have to make the coffee myself. 

I glanced up from my coffee, absentmindedly wondering why Isaac hadn't come with me this morning. I looked back down to the page in my notebook that my pencil had been drifting over for the past 15 minutes or so. 

I didn't even realize I had been drawing anything in particular, but the random lines seemed to almost form the shape of a person -- no, an angel. An angel quite like the girl with the cowboy hat. Minus hat, plus halo. 

"Whatcha drawing?" Zac sat down carefully, switching a cup of hot coffee back and forth between his hands. 

I slid the notebook toward him, "Nothing much. Kind of looks like hat girl, huh?"

Hat girl. That's what I had taken to calling her. You remember, the one with the hat and the paper, drawing the angel that looked like me. 

"Yeah--" he paused for a sip of coffee and look of disgust -- "It's nice."

"I thought you didn't drink coffee?"

"I don't." He took another drink. For someone who didn't drink coffee, he drank a lot of coffee.

"What's that, mud?" I laughed at my own joke.

Zac looked into the cup and replied a little too seriously, "It sure tastes like it."

"So why are you drinking it?" 

"I'll get back to you when I find the answer to that question. It could take a while," he smirked.

I looked over at the table where I knew hat girl was sitting. She was always there; you couldn't get rid of her. I had begun to believe she lived in the coffee house. 

She was busy drawing, as usual. I wondered why she was always alone. I also wondered why, for someone looking so depressed, she would be drawing angels. 

At least Zac said she was drawing angels. I decided it was time I saw for myself.

I sat down my coffee and walked over to her table. It wasn't an easy walk; my pants for the day were rather snug fitting. 

I suppose she felt my presence because she instinctively threw a hand over her paper. Then she looked up.

"Oh. It's just you," she said. Actually, it was more of a whisper. I got the feeling that was how her voiced sounded, though.

"Just...me?" I repeated. _What does she mean by that? I don't know her._

She slowly removed her hand from the paper. "Yeah, you. Don't you know me? I guess not. I shouldn't have expected you to remember."

 _Remember what?_ I was fairly certain I hadn't had any one night stands I had forgotten to tell myself about. I was even more certain I hadn't had any one night stands I _had_ told myself about. Of course there was that one time that Isaac got me drunk... But I'm pretty sure I passed out before I could have invited any girls into my pants. 

I shook my head to clear my thoughts and asked, "Remember you from where?"

"From your past life, of course," she cracked a half smile.

"Past life?" _Past life?! What the hell?!_

Her smile faded a little, "Yeah. Past life. The life before this one. One of many you've had, actually."

 _Okay. Freak. Leaving now._

My legs were a little ahead of my mind and I was half way across the room before I had time to really process the last thing she had said. 

_I guess that's how she thinks before she's finished her morning coffee. Coffee does weird stuff to the brain. I know, I've been there._

I quickly decided it was time to finish my coffee and get back to the studio.


End file.
